


I could've sworn I'd forgotten something

by Hanahaiku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Canon Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Person of Color Harry Potter, Pining, Post-Canon, Super Rare Advice Luna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanahaiku/pseuds/Hanahaiku
Summary: Harry Potter is experiencing all the pleasures of his newly open marriage, or at least he's trying to. It seems a certain Draco Malfoy, is avoiding his affections and he just can't figure out why.





	I could've sworn I'd forgotten something

**Author's Note:**

> My first Harry/Draco, fic! Also my first M rating, I'm excited about both, we will see how it goes.

A hard shove presses him against the second floor fireplace of 12 Grimmauld place and Harry lets out a groan.  
  
“Quiet, Potter, need I remind you, your children are downstairs,” Draco whispers into Harry’s neck.  
  
Harry throws his head back, hitting the rock.  
  
“Merlin! Malfoy, why would you mention them while you have your hand down my pants,” Harry hisses, he’s not sure if it’s from pain or pleasure, or sheer astonishment that Draco would mention his kids at a moment like this.  
  
Malfoy smiles in a way that makes him resemble a particularly cruel predatory bird.  
  
“Oh, Potter,” he says mouth brushing Harry’s ear, “I thought you knew? I can only get off from your utter discomfort.”  
  
Harry swallows, “Well,” he says fighting for breath as Draco latches himself to his neck, “Scorpius is downstairs too.”  
  
Draco immediately breaks off from him and takes a step back and Harry misses his heat more than he can admit.  
  
They stand there, staring at each other, breathing heavy.  
  
“God Potter you have to ruin everything,” Draco says finally, “Even my erection.”    
  
“Me? How did I ruin it? You started it!” Harry argues, outraged that he is the one shirting the blame for the ending of the encounter.  
  
“I just said children! You said his name! I can’t go on when you bring up the exact image of my son,” Draco says exasperated.  
  
“Oh and I’m fine to have sex thinking of children!” Harry counters.  
  
Draco opens his mouth and then closes it, “I see your point there.”  
  
“Thank you,” Harry says, throwing his hands up.  
  
Draco shakes his head and his shoulders start trembling. He’s- he’s laughing. Of course he is.  
  
“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” Harry says.  
  
“Salazar, we can’t do anything right can we?” Draco says.  
  
He’s still laughing and it’s all quite unnerving. Harry approaches him linking Draco’s fingers in his own.

“I told you we could always go out, like normal people,” He says not daring to look Draco in the eye.

Draco just snorts, “I wasn’t aware we were normal people, Potter. The prophet would be all over it the minute we stepped out within 500 feet of each other. I can see the headline now _Golden Boy corrupted: Look who’s bending over for extremely handsome Ex-Death Eater._ ”

Harry stares at him an eyebrow raised, “Why do you assume they’ll say I’m bottoming?”

“It adds to the lure of the story Potter, this is the front page we’re talking about,” Draco explains, matter of factly.

He sighs before releasing his hand from Harry’s and re-buttoning the top of his shirt, adjusting his tie without a mirror to a better state than Harry’s was at the beginning of the night.

“Are you leaving?” Harry asks, he already knows the answer but doesn’t know how to stop it from happening.

“No, Potter, I just love it when you sully my clothes with your big Gryffindor hands. I thought I’d put my outfit all he way back together just so you can do it again,” Draco says, grabbing his jacket from the chair, then picking Harry’s off the floor and smoothing it out.

“You like my hands,” Harry says, taking the coat from Draco’s outstretched hand.

“Yes, well we all have our faults,” Draco rake’s his eyes over Harry’s body, all reptile, “Mine are apparently aging boy hero’s, with bad hair and good hands.”

“You love my hair,” Harry says, as Draco walks over to assist him with his coat.

“I can only pay you one compliment a month and you just wasted it on your hands,” Draco says leaning into Harry’s ear, he adds, “and to be honest I probably would have given you that one for free.”

Draco takes his time to pull on Harry’s ear lobe with his teeth before ruining it all with, “Wait five minutes before you follow me out.”

“You’re killing me, Malfoy,” Harry groans as Draco opens the door to leave.

He pauses, thoughtful, “Good,” and then the door shuts and he’s gone.

  
•••••••••

Harry didn’t have many options for people he could talk about Draco Malfoy with. Ron was still coming to terms with the whole _open_ aspect of him and Ginny’s marriage and he wasn’t sure how helpful he’d be in discussing Draco anyway. He had considered asking Ginny but he wasn’t sure how he would react if she came to him asking advice on shagging another bloke. Leaving Hermione who was always the sensible one, and her advice while it made sense to Harry never seemed to work on Draco quite the way he had planned. In fact no strictly logical advice seemed to work on Draco. Also it was hard to stay vague with identities on somehow as curious as Hermione.

That’s how he ended up quite frequently on the colorful sitting room of Luna Lovegood's home. Luna herself was married, and she had two boys. Twins, who when spoken to really deep down made Harry feel like he was in a horror film. He wasn’t sure what it was about them, he’d never had any issues with twins before, the Patil sisters were perfectly lovely, but something about to small blonde boys answering the door and speaking riddles in unison was a dash off putting.

Still Harry came back persistently every week with a new problem and Luna always seemed happy to see him and inform him of a newly discovered, animal, or a newly discovered magical health tea, or show him a rash on her arm and ask if he knew what it was and if he thinks she should go to a hospital? She was like a really inexpensive relationship therapist with no boundaries and child secretaries. More than that she was his friend.

“Hello Harry,” she said sitting on the large chair in front of the loveseat the twins always brought him too.

She leaned forward setting her mug on the coffee table before frowning, picking it up again and settling into her seat.

“What seems to be bothering you this week?” She asks, “I noticed your absence at your party on Thursday.”

Harry’s forehead wrinkled in surprise, “I wasn’t even gone ten minutes.”

Luna grinned, “I didn’t actually, I just assumed, why would I keep that close an eye on you Harry Potter? I have other things going on.”

“Well I think that’s part of my problem, Luna, I-“ Harry looks up trying to find the words, “I think I’m obsessed with Draco Malfoy.”

“And you only figured that out just now?” Luna says.

Harry opens his mouth and then closes it. Then sighs.

“Well it’s not an entirely new feeling no, but it’s gotten so much worse, I can’t concentrate on anything, everything reminds me of him, and I’m always thinking about him, what he’s doing, how he is, who he’s with. And I can’t say no to him. No matter how hard I try,” Harry admits before looking up at her, “What should I do?”

“When are going to see him next?” Asks Luna.

Harry squirms, “It’s not like we have official plans or anything.”

Luna tilts her head, waiting for a response. Harry runs a hand through his hair.

“Well I know he has season tickets to the Wimbourne Wasps,” he starts.

“So,” Luna offers.

Harry sighs, “So I may have bought season tickets for the Wimbourne Wasps.”

“Aren’t they the Harpies rival team?” Luna asks, slightly concerned.

“This is bad isn’t it,” Harry says, a bit squeaky.

“As I see it you only have one option,” Luna says.

Harry nods, because at this point he’s willing to do anything.  

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

Well, almost anything.

“You don’t understand. Luna he’s not like- I can’t just. Talking to him is different.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a Gryffindor, Harry Potter?” Luna says, before taking a long sip of tea.

Harry opens his mouth and then closes it, because she’s right. If there is ever going to be any headway with him and Malfoy, he needs to be the one to go for it. He is a Gryffindor! And he’s faced so much worse. He just has to accept the fact that he’s always destined to embarrass himself in front of Malfoy.

“Don’t look so miserable Harry, I might have something else that can help you out,” Luna says as she gets up, shuffling off to her kitchen.

Returning with a mug of something that she hands, enthusiastically to Harry.

“What is this? Some new tea made from a special root from a thousand year old tree in the South American forest?” He asks, lifting the cup to his mouth.

Only to pause after an extraordinarily revealing first sip.

“Luna,” he says.

“Yes,” she says, voice bright.

“This is just a mug you filled with fire whiskey,” he says.

“Yes,” She repeats.

Harry stares at her a moment and then downs the whole cup.

“Now, If you'll excuse me I have a quidditch match to go to.”

•••••••••

Harry arrived at the pitch 20 minutes into the game, due to a combination of accidentally apparating twelve blocks away and then deciding to walk, in attempt to shake off his anxieties and then discovering that maybe that’s a long way to walk when you are one of the most well known faces in the wizarding world, and he did not bring his invisibility cloak to Luna’s. By the time he gets to the ticket counter the teenage employee working seems more than a little surprised to see him.

“It should be under Potter, section 8,” Harry offers.

“Uh, yeah,” the girl says eyeing him before picking up the appropriate envelope from behind the counter.

She doesn’t hand it to him immediately, just waits.

“Is there a problem?” Harry asks.

“Didn’t your wife play for the Harpies?” she asks.

Harry scowls, “Can I get my tickets or not.”

She hands them over, “The games already underway. Just so you know," she drawls.

Harry gives her a forced smile and walks to the empty, save for a single ticket collector, line to get in. He hands the man his ticket, and the guy does a double take.

“Yes, I am Harry Potter, but I’m also in a hurry so if we could just move along,” Harry says offering a terse smile.

“Your wife,” the guy begins, looking like he might tear up, “Is one of the greatest quidditch players of the modern era.”

Harry pauses looking at the man.

“She changed the game,” he continues, “Absolutely amazing, you are so lucky.”

“Er, yeah, thank you?” Harry says.

The man continues staring at Harry for a few more moments as Harry feels increasingly more and more uncomfortable, he does occasionally deal with fans of Ginny’s and he has always considered it a step up from his own fans who he doesn’t really know how to address. At least he can relate to Harpies fans, for he too considers himself an admirer of Ginny Weasley. The man finally looks away.

“I’m sorry, yeah I’ll get you right in,” he says scanning Harry’s ticket, “Though I can tell you right now no one on that field would even give your wife a run for her money.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Harry says grabbing his tickets back.

The man’s eyes get as wide as saucers but Harry shuffles into the stadium before he can say anything.

Harry walks down the stairs to the seats he had gotten, no one seems to notice him, too  engrossed in the game which is fine. Harry spots Draco easily, his white blonde hair sticking out like a beacon, Harry slides into the aisle to his seat next to him. Draco doesn’t turn.

“Malfoy,” he says after a moment.

Draco still doesn’t turn. 

“Didn't know you were a fan, Potter,” he says flatly, eyes following one of the chasers on the field, “Merlin, she’s going to hurt herself.”

“Who?” Harry asks, glad Draco doesn’t seem to be dwelling on why, or how exactly he is here.

“Number 17, Chaser,” Draco says.

Harry looks out, and _Salazar,_ Draco is right, she’s flying dangerously low, and twin beaters are right on her tail. Harry see’s the impact before it happens but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch, as the bludger smashes into her ribs, knocking her clean off her broom. A team of medics are brought out and a 15 minute intermission is announced.

Draco tuts, “Her name is Arianna Mammot, she’s an excellent flier, but ultimately reckless.”

He takes his eyes off of her crumbled form putting the whole weight of his gaze on Harry, “You know Potter, I hadn’t realized we were back to full blown stalking this soon.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” Harry says, leveling Draco’s look.

Draco scoffs, “Really, Potter? You do know your wife played for the Harpies.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ll go out with me in public any other way, you don’t give me a lot of options, Malfoy,” Harry says.

Draco rolls his eyes, watching the medics take the girl off the field, “Maybe you should take your sports reporter wife to Quidditch games, Potter.”

Harry shrugs, “I don’t really think she’d want to goes to enough at work anyway, besides she knows everyone personally, it really takes you out of it.”

Draco turns back to him utterly baffled, “You can’t possibly be that thick, Potter.”

Harry quirks his head, “You think Ginny wants me to take her to more quidditch games?”

Draco stares at him, brow furrowed. This is getting off topic, Harry thinks, why is he talking about Ginny? He doesn’t think he’s ever really brought her up too Malfoy. Maybe that’s why this feels so… off right now.

“You really don’t know the reason I don’t agree go out with you?” Malfoy says finally, and he looks tired.

Harry nods because of course he wants to know, that’s all he wants to know. Why it can’t be more than meetups at parties and bathrooms at Ministry gala’s, or lingered encounters after one of them comes by to drop off one of their sons at the other’s house.

“You really don’t know?” Draco says, and he’s laughing, breathless, but there’s no humor in it.

He looks over Harry once more, “Potter, you have fantastic hair, and marvelous hands, and you’re so utterly oblivious, and you know what else you have? A wife.”

Harry just looks at him.

“And contrary to prior belief I don’t actually hate her, it would probably be easier if I did, but she’s a good person and I can’t,” Draco looks away, “I just can’t do that to her, to your kids,”

He shakes his head, “Merlin what kind of person would I be? So, no I’d rather not be the mistress the Prophet catches, sneaking out of the back alley of some restaurant, or show,” he throws his hands up, “Or Quidditch match for example”

Draco pointedly looks away from him red faced. Harry just stares at him breathless, as everything clicks together. How could he have been so daft. He didn’t tell Malfoy about him and Ginny. He opens his mouth to explain, to tell Malfoy it’s alright, but everything has gotten weirdly quiet. Harry glances around him to confirm the silence of the crowd, but worse they’ve also seemed to attract everyone’s eyes. It’s not until he looks up and sees himself projected into the sky that the full picture comes together.

“Of fucking course, the bloody kiss cam,” Draco mutters, shifting away from Harry, “The cameraman must think this is the peak of comedy,” Draco purses his mouth and shakes his head “Just put on your most heteronormative expression and it will pass.”

Harry’s never been good at doing what he’s been told. After all he is a Gryffindor. He doesn’t think twice as he leans over to Draco grabbing his chin and snogging the living daylights out of him. Draco for his part couldn't stick with the frozen in place act past three seconds and violently fists both hands in Harry’s hair. Harry can practically hear him purring _well we might as well give them a show, Potter._ He brings a hand to Draco’s collar bringing him closer still as he feels the other man take his lower lip between his teeth.

Harry practically moans out loud, well he would’ve if Draco hadn’t followed that motion with pulling away, and then giving a terse smile to the camera until it pans away. He glances back at Harry once before grabbing his arm and apparating them to Malfoy manor. Leaving behind two empty seats and an absolutely roaring crowd.

•••••••••

Harry finds himself in what he assumes to be Draco’s bedroom at Malfoy Manor, before he’s even able to properly get a grasp on his new location Draco shoves him back into a bed, so sudden it knocks the wind out of him. Draco throws back his overcoat, rolling up his sleeves before he crawls on top, shoving a thigh between Harry’s legs and placing his mouth right below Harry’s earlobe.

“So what, you just don’t care what people think about you?” Draco demands mouth inches away from Harry’s, “Or do you just not think about anything long enough to see the consequences?”

Draco slips his hand down to Harry’s trousers running his thin fingers up and down Harry’s thigh. Harry opens his mouth to say… something, but Draco just uses it as an opportunity to fill the space with his tongue. Open mouthed and filthy, Draco is kissing him like he despises him and oh god it should not be making him as hot as it is.

He pulls away, lips parted, eyes wide, looking like a man at a cliff’s edge, poised to fall. Harry watches as Draco makes quick work of undoing his zip. Harry looks up leaning on his elbows, lifting his hips to assist, to bring Draco back down to him sooner. Draco smiles, so lovely, it’s shattering, he moves down to carefully, and slowly, heartbreakingly slowly, remove Harry’s socks. Harry is breathing heavy as Draco puts his cold hands against his calf. The sheer contrast of Draco’s moon white skin against his own sepia toned leg, distracting enough.

Draco looks up at him lowering his mouth to the side of his knee, a ghosting of teeth. Lashes, lowered, it’s no sensation and then a sting of a nail, or a bite. Draco makes his way up Harry’s cock, any ounce of resistance leaves his as Draco’s mouth closes around the head. Not that he could ever hold out against Draco. He’d give him anything he wanted, anything at all.

His hands find the silver blonde strands and take fists of it. Draco takes it as a hint to go faster, and _this_ is what it was supposed to be, Harry thinks. It was always this, all the misplaced, emotion, the obsession, the dance. Everytime he finds himself locked inside the wave of Draco Malfoy he’s reaching all over again. Draco’s mouth is full and wet and as he pulls off to lick a stripe down to Harry’s stomach, he feels as if he’s going down to his very core.

Harry tries to speak but it’s only the same broken call of “Draco” over and over.

Then Draco is taking him down all over again.When he comes it feels like he’s blooming, thighs shaking. Hands sweaty as blonde tendrils fall out of his fingers, like sand from an hourglass. Draco glides off of him and presses a kiss to his hip.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Draco says.

Harry pulls him up bringing Draco’s mouth to his. For all his ice and his rage, Draco can never hide his devotion, but Harry’s worship has always been open. He breaks away and looks at Draco with the softest brand of hunger, as he flips them over. Harry trails down Draco’s neck, ripping buttons as he goes, his own silent way of saying, _yes_.

When he removes Draco’s clothes it’s fast, different from Draco’s slow undressing of him, they’re just obstacles in the way of what he really wants. Harry doesn’t have the most experience sucking dick, but as he does with everything he approaches it with an earnest naivety, that you can’t help but want to encourage. He pulls long strings of words from Draco.

“Oh, Come on, Harry, that’s brilliant, you’re so good at this, come on baby, just a little more.”

Usually on climax Draco will push Harry away, letting himself finish on his face, or his chest, dangling in his mass of hair. This time around when Harry makes to break away he feels to hands in his curls holding him there, so he swallows down, waiting for Draco to collapse, before pulling off and climbing on top of him.

Harry watches him while he catches his breath, trailing his fingers up and down Draco’s chest in large, lazy figure eights.

Before Draco sits up and looks him right in the eye and says, “I’m going to fuck you now, Potter.”

Harry stares eyes wide, since he and Draco began hooking up they had never seem to move past blowjobs. Harry finds himself eager to push past nodding as Draco looks on with his attempt at neutral expression, mouth quirked, concerned eyes.

“If that’s alright with you,” Draco tacks on.

Harry smiles at him, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“There’s very little you could do to me I wouldn’t be alright with, Malfoy”

Draco looks away, which means he’s either upset or blushing and in this context Harry’s bet is on the blush. Draco swallows and then turns back to face him.

“Okay, let's get you ready.”

•••••••••

Harry falls asleep because he’s never had any sexual encounter that wasn’t an overnight, that wasn’t breakfast in the morning and cuddles, and a shared shower. But of course when Harry wakes up Draco is nowhere to be found. Not in his room, not the kitchens, not in any of the various other rooms Harry wanders into while the guilt is setting in.

Eventually Harry manages to spot a house elf.

“Excuse me,” Harry says, “But do you happen to know where Draco is?”

The house elf looks at him up and down with her large green eyes then says, “Master Malfoy, has left for the day.”

“Yes, but do you know when he’ll be back?” Harry presses.

The house elf furiously shakes her head, “Master Malfoy, did leave a message for you Mister Potter.”

She proceeds to hand him a folded sealed letter. He tears it open to find that it’s contents of course were not a location or a time he would be back but instead an inexplicably perfect calligrified “Why are you still in my house, Potter?”

By the time Harry gets home he is greeted by the Prophet. The kiss of course was plastered on the front page, an endless loop of him and Draco meeting while Quidditch fans looked on in varying states of shock and awe. Harry didn’t want to read any of it but the Prophets story was the least offensive. The headline was far less obscene than anything Draco would have pitched “Kiss and Make up: Harry Potter plants one on former rival Draco Malfoy”

He found himself extremely thankful that Ginny due to her employment with the publication had been on top of framing the story strangely enough as a joke, saying the kiss was a public protest, a mockery of the prejudices that had once separated them.

Besides by now the public knew they were friends there were pictures of Draco talking to Ginny outside the manor as he dropped off Scorpius that weren’t even a month old. Would the wife really be that comfortable with her husband’s alleged lover? It was a pretty smart marketing move, since even with her pull at the paper hadn’t been enough to get them not to print it. It had been too public to be glossed over. He was too high profile for it to be ignored.

Or at least he assumed it was Ginny’s influence since he hadn’t exactly seen her since this had all gone down. He figured it was only a matter of time before she showed up as he sat in their kitchen at Grimmauld Place. He’ll be here, waiting, and thinking about how he possibly got through all of last night without clearing the air with Malfoy. He supposes they had both been otherwise occupied, but still. How could he have let him go without telling him, time and time again?

The sound of a door slam breaks him from his thoughts. Ginny walks in casting a withering glare to the the spot Harry sits as she kicks off her heels. She says nothing, making a beeline for the fridge, pulling out the milk carton and chugging it for a solid six seconds, before slamming it on the counter and glowering at Harry.

“Gin, I can explain,” Harry starts.

Ginny wipes the milk off of her mouth with her sleeve.

“Yeah, you better have a bloody good explanation for the morning you put me through!” Ginny says, “I had to convince a room of professionals that that snog was performance art!”

Harry shrunk back in his chair.

“Performance art! He bit your goddamn lip!” Ginny says, blazing, before tacking on, “Also we’re out of milk.”

“I really didn’t mean for it to happen,” Harry says sheepish.

“Of course you didn’t,” she says, “Otherwise I’m certain you would have given your wife a heads up. I mean really Draco Malfoy, and at a Wasps game, no less.”

She left the empty carton on the counter as she moved to sit in the chair across from Harry’s at the round breakfast table.

“He better be bloody brilliant in bed,” She mutters, zeroing in on Harry, who immediately turns red.

“It’s funny how even with your complexion you still manage to have the most obvious blushes, Harry,” she says, reaching out and comparing his dark brown hand to her freckled one.

She looks up at him, “But really Harry, what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

He shakes his head, “Oh god, Gin I wasn’t.”

“Well, I mean that’s clear enough,” she says.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” he grumbles.

She raises a pale eyebrow.

“I forgot to tell him,” he admits with a sigh.

“You forgot to tell him what?” she says, “That you like biting? I think he figured it out on his own.”

“No, not that, about us, I forgot to tell him we’re, you know open,” Harry says.

Ginny’s eyebrow raise turned comically high, “You mean to tell me you are just letting Draco believe, that you are cheating on me with him?”

Harry nods.

“Merlin! Harry! There must actually be something wrong with you.” She says.

“I don’t know,” Harry groans, “I really meant to tell him, I really thought I’d told him.”

“You know this is like the first rule of open relationships, you get to tell other people you’re seeing that you are in an open relationship!” Ginny says.

“It’s bad isn’t it,” Harry says.

“Yes, it’s bad, Merlin, you need to fix this!” Ginny says, kicking him with her foot, “What’re you doing here, go find him, this is just as uncomfortable for me! I cannot believe Draco Malfoy thinks he has one over on me!”

“I had to come here first and talk to you!” Harry protests, attempting to shift out of range of attack.

Ginny pauses her kicks, “I suppose, you did. Nevertheless you need to tell him,” She looks at Harry face suddenly somber, “Also again the milk thing, I’d really appreciate it if you could run to the store on your way out.

•••••••••

Harry spends the day looking for Malfoy. It’s not the first time in his life he’s spent a day this way but for some reason he’s never felt this frustrated. He’s nowhere to be found, not the coffee shop across from his office, not the library, not his office, not at any of the four places he goes to buy new robes. Harry goes to the manor three times each getting the same message about Master Malfoy not having shown up again since he left this morning, and isn’t due any time soon.

He can’t go home as to face the small army of owls have popped up at his house of concerns from friends and colleagues he’d noticed when he’d popped in to drop off the milk, but he’s also run out of places to search. It’s nearly 10 when Harry arrives at Luna’s, who lets him in herself, with a sigh and warning to not wake the twins. She brings them to sit at her dining room, then makes them tea, that contains ‘understanding’ properties. To which Harry understands that it just tastes in equal parts of sea bass and black licorice.

“I assume this visit has something to do with the front page spread I saw this morning?” Luna asks.

Harry nods miserably.

“That was some art piece,” Luna says letting out a low whistle, “What’s the issue? You two seemed to be getting along from what I saw.”

Harry groans and Luna raises an eyebrow.

“I-, uh, We slept together,” Harry says.

Luna nods taking a sip of tea, “Well I had assumed that from the picture.”

“No, it was,” Harry looks down at the table, “It was our first time together.”

“And?” Luna says, “How was it?”

Harry lets out a breath, “I don't even know! I thought It was amazing, but by the time I woke up he was gone.”

Luna sets down her glass, “The bastard!”

“No, no, no, no, It wasn’t like that it was my fault,” Harry amends.

“I don’t think I understand,” Luna admits, tilting her chin up.

“Luna, I didn’t get around to explaining to him I’m in an open relationship. Which is as I have been informed the first rule of open relationships,” Harry moans, putting his head down onto the table.

“You’re in an open relationship?” Luna says.

Harry’s head jerks up to look at her, she just sips her tea and looks at him.

“Are you being serious?” He asks her.

She shrugs, “How was I supposed to know Harry? You never told me, and you know I can’t read minds, the shaman who gave me that ceremony was a fraud.”

Harry ignores the second part of her statement in utter awe at the first.

“Wait, so this whole time, you just thought I was cheating on Ginny?” Harry asks.

“Oh yeah,” Luna says nodding, “I suppose so.”

Harry stares at her eyes wide with horror.

“To be honest, Harry I guess I just didn’t think about it that much, you do know I have other things going on and don’t just spend all day worrying about your love life,” she says oddly harsh even in her wispy tone.

Harry frowns and takes a sip of his tea, it tastes awful, but he somehow deserves it.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t tell him, that I didn’t tell you!” he says, “And now I can’t even find him to make it right.”

“Wait, you’re looking for Draco?” Luna asks.

“Yes, Luna,” Harry sighs, “What else would I be doing?”  

“Oh, well you should’ve said so, I just saw him at dinner,” Luna says brightly, “They really seem to get on quite well.”

“They?” Harry asks, “Who was he with?”

_Was Draco on a date? Is that why he was avoiding him? Merlin he really needed to talk to him._

“Ginny!” Luna answered brightly before continuing, “I stopped by their table to see how they were doing, they seemed to be drinking a lot of wine, fairly early in the meal, it was quite refreshing. I’m always saying people should drink more wine.”

“Wait Ginny, My Ginny and Malfoy?” Harry asks, growing more and more panicked by the second.

“Your Malfoy?” Luna offers.

Harry scowls, “Do you know if they’re still there?”

“No, they’ve probably left by now, when I was heading out they had just gotten their dessert,” Luna muses.

Harry stands up so suddenly the chair falls.

“Harry!” Luna scolds, “The boys are sleeping.”

“Sorry, Luna, but I have to go home right now,” Harry says.

“Fair enough,” Luna says sighing as she gets up to walk him to the flu, “But what did you think of the tea?”

“Luna,” Harry’s says grabbing a handful of Flu powder.

“Mmmm,” she says eyes expectant.

“I love you, but it’s absolutely disgusting,” he finishes

“It’s not about taste! It’s about understanding!” she argues, then sighs, “Come back next week, I’ll add more gingernut.”

Harry nods and then throws down the powder thinking of the second floor fireplace of 12 Grimmauld place.

•••••••••

Harry arrives at the downstairs drawing room fireplace to find the lights on but the room empty. He walks into the entrance way to reveal, Ginny’s thrown off heels. Looking further into the hall, sitting, pristine on a the coatrack, a dark green scarf that was probably made of 100% silk and had a 100% chance of belonging to Draco Malfoy. That is when he heard the laughter.

It’s coming from the upstairs study, the other fireplace of the house, the room he had found himself and Draco in not one week prior. He walks up the steps and down the hall, stopping outside the door to hear the conversation.

“Salazar! This one has to be good,” he hears Ginny say.

Before she falls into a pit of giggles, Draco responds in the high arrogant way he does, when he knows he’s saying something you want to hear. Harry leans into the crack in the door frame but he just can’t make out his words.

Harry wonders what he’s waiting for. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Ginny and Draco in the same room before, it’s not like this is their first time interacting outside of him, but, they’re laughing, and talking and, is it about him? What else could it be about if not him?

Harry opens the door and walks in.

“...I knew plenty of men back in my day who experimented outside of the sex, society had chosen for them to be with. I’ll be honest with you Harry, myself included,” Draco drawls, eyebrows raised at the last bit as he looks at Ginny who bursts into laughter.

“Merlin, who’d of thought he had it in him,” Ginny says, wiping away tears from her eyes, as she sits next to Draco on the couch, a pile of letters in her lap and on the coffee table.

“You were right that was a good one,” Draco says, folding a letter in half, flashing the titular, _Dear, Harry_ at the top.

“Are you two going through my mail?” Harry says, still standing in the doorway.

The two turn their heads, Draco taking him in with cool disregard and Ginny smirking at him in a way that tells him she’s privy to something he is not.

“Like you were ever going to go through it yourself, Potter,” Draco says, not even bothering to make eye contact at the subject of the comment, instead choosing to rifle through the letters on his lap.

“Oh Darling, you made it home, what a nice surprise,” Ginny says, “Well I guess not really considering this ones here.”

Draco puckers his mouth and shoots her a rather prickly look. Harry feels more than a shade uneasy.

“So who was that from?” he asks, attempting to brush past the tension, before he can determine what the best course of action is.

“Horace Slughorn,” Ginny responds, “That man has always been obsessed with you.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest and then closes it, he thinks it’s rather rude they read mail that personal, addressed to him, without him. He’s about to voice so but Draco beats him to the punch.

“I cannot believe you did not tell me,” Draco says, suddenly looking right at him.

“I-” Harry starts suddenly feeling very hot.

“I don’t even want to hear whatever ridiculous excuse you’ve come up with,” Draco declares.

“He does want to hear it,” Ginny says, and Draco doesn’t disagree.

“I meant to,” he says, “Really I did, but by the time it had gotten to the point it did, It just never occurred to me you didn’t already know.”

“You did not think I knew last night,” Draco says, eyes sharp.

Ginny throws him a look.

“And I’m really sorry, about that, I just, everything was happening so fast, and I didnt want to ruin it!” Harry says.

His pleas fall on twin cruelly blank faces.

“You let me, get told, by your WIFE, who I again thought you were in a committed relationship with, that I was not in fact committing a terrible crime,” Draco says, bitterly, “That in fact you are in an OPEN relationship, and she is in fact both aware of and in support of us.

“Aren’t you glad I’m here to clean up your messes?” Ginny says, all faux innocence.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, “I am glad that she was able to find you and tell you, before the guilt really set in."

“Okay, I wouldn’t say that, she had me halfway to admitting myself to Azkaban, before she told me,” Draco says.

“He’s being dramatic,” Ginny says throwing her hand in a dismissive motion.

Draco turns to her poised to attack.

“You pretended you thought it was performance art for fifteen whole minutes! I had to act like that made any form of sense!” Draco argues.

“Yeah, well you slept with my husband when you thought he was cheating on me,” Ginny counters.

Draco somehow gets three shades lighter than he already was, “Ginevra, You know it was eating me alive, what I thought,” Draco shoots Harry a glare, “I was doing that to you.”

Ginny laughs, “Really, Draco, it’s not a big deal, and for the love of god stop calling me Ginevra.”

“It’s that or Weaslette,” Draco responds.

“Salazar, he’s such a bitch, I see why you like him, Harry,” Ginny says.

Harry sat down on the coach in-between them as they proceed to continue, reading the letters delivered throughout the day

“Listen to this one from Granger, _Harry, I can’t say I didn’t suspect this, considering your past behaviors in relation to Malfoy, ala fifth year_.”

“That is really so her!” Ginny says before turning to Draco and saying, “We need to show him the threesome one.”

Draco lit up, “Potter, you truly will not believe who invited you to a threesome, in perhaps the most uncomfortable way possible.”

Ginny who had been looking through the pile sitting in her lap, grasps one firmly and says, “Found it!”

As his wife, and his boyfriend take great pleasure in reading him an incredibly awkward letter from Dean Thomas (and presumably Seamus Finnegan) it occurred to him for the first time in his life, that perhaps he had, a type. But with the realization came a second judgement call that he, in fact, would not want it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! In the process of this fic I got my self all re-upset at how dirty they did Ginny in the movies.


End file.
